


A Perfect Fit

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothing Kink, M/M, Restraints, Shirt kink, Sleepwalking, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will finds himself sleepwalking again and there's only one person he can call.<br/>In the process he winds up wearing Hannibal's shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hannibal kink meme.

_Cold. So cold._ Will blinks and opens his eyes, like he’s pulling himself out of an ocean, gasping for breath.  
  
He’s standing on a lonely strip of road. Up ahead the neon light from the gas station blinks repetitively at him, which means he’s exactly seven and a half miles from his home. No wonder his feet hurt.  
  
He rubs at his arms, trying to keep himself warm, and realizes he’s not even wearing a shirt, just his underwear. One of these days he’s going to walk out his front door naked. Will shudders at the thought. What if someone saw this? Heard about it? The last thing he needs is Freddie Lounds finding out and staking out his house. Just thinking about it makes him queasy.  
  
He starts walking towards the gas station, wincing with each step. Call somebody. That’s what he needs to do. Somebody. Who?  
  
He can’t call Alana. Not after…  
  
Hannibal. He can call Hannibal.  
  
He shouldn’t call Hannibal at this hour of the night, can’t expect him to make the drive just for Will, but who else can he call? He doesn’t want anyone to know about this. There’s nobody else he trusts.  
  
*  *  *  
  
“Hello?”  
  
He sounds awake, for which Will is relieved. “Sorry to disturb you, but I seem to have sleepwalked again.” He stares at his feet. They ache.  
  
“Will, where are you?”  
  
Will tells him, barely able to keep the shivering from his voice.  
  
“Stay there. I’ll be there shortly."  
  
Will looks at his barely clothed body. “Believe me, I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
He stands outside the gas station, arms wrapped around his chest. There’s nothing else to do. He can’t make a full set of pajamas appear out of nowhere.  When Hannibal drives up and sees him standing there in his underwear, Will really wishes he hadn’t called him. Of all the things he’s done since Hannibal’s met him, this is the most embarrassing.  
  
Hannibal frowns as he gets out of the car. “Why aren’t you waiting inside?”  
  
“I don’t think the attendant was too pleased at having a man in his underwear hanging around his store.” Will can’t blame him.  
  
Hannibal’s frown widens. “He wouldn’t let you?” His expression darkens as he eyes the attendant through the window.  
  
“Not so much.” Will rubs at his arms. “Can we go?”  
  
“Of course.” Hannibal holds the door for him and walks around the car to get in. “Here.” From the backseat he produces a second shirt. “Put this on.”  
  
“Why do you have a spare shirt in your car?” Will pulls it on gratefully. He buttons it out of habit, needing the warmth. It’s too big on his frame, cuffs falling over his hands. He pushes them back up awkwardly.  
  
“Emergencies.” Hannibal doesn’t say any more.  
  
It smells like him. Will finds it comforting even if he must look ridiculous in it. He leans his head back in the seat. The shirt comes down to his upper thighs. He rubs his hands along them, feeling the cold still in his limbs and Hannibal turns the heat up. His gloves lay on the seat between them.  
  
“Do you want to talk about your dream?”  
  
“I don’t remember it.” Will traces the hemline of the shirt absently. “One minute I was in bed. The next, out on the road.” He glances at Hannibal. “You got there a lot quicker than I thought you would.”  
  
“You could have caught a chill.” Hannibal hesitates. “It might have been wise to call someone closer since the gas station attendants of Wolf Trap are so inhospitable.”  
  
“There’s no one else I could call.” Will whispers. It makes him sound pitiful, desperate, and that he wouldn’t have called Hannibal if he didn’t have to. “Not that I wouldn’t have called you. I just…wouldn’t have imposed.” He’s saying this all wrong, but maybe there’s no good way to say something like this.  
  
“It’s not an imposition, Will. I was already out.”  
  
“At this hour of the night?” Will looks at him. “Another needy patient? Or something more personal?” Hannibal, of course, has friends. People he wants to see by choice. People who don’t call him up in the middle of the night. Friends he chose, that weren’t thrust upon him by the FBI.  
  
“Which do you suppose?” Hannibal eyes him.  
  
“Do you make house calls?” He has, for Will. Perhaps he does sometimes for others. The thought makes Will jealous, which is pointless. Hannibal doesn’t belong to him.  
  
“Only for special cases.” Hannibal’s smile is brief, but Will catches a glimpse. “No, this was merely an acquaintance. A meeting got pushed back later than I had hoped. This was the only time he had available.”  
  
“Mysterious.”  
  
“Not as interesting as it seems.” Hannibal assures him. “And the last time it will happen.” The smile’s there again for a second, and then gone.  
  
“I hope it was a good meeting.” Will doesn’t hope anything of the sort, but else can he say?  
  
“I think it will prove enjoyable in due time.” Hannibal glances at him.  
  
Will finds that an odd way to put it, but he’s too tired to really make much of it.  
  
*  *  *  
  
They pull up at his house and Hannibal turns the engine off. “You should see to your feet.”  
  
Will nods. “Do you…want to come in, for a drink or something?” He hugs the shirt to his skin, unwilling to relinquish it yet.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Hannibal takes his arm when Will hisses at putting his feet down on the driveway. “You should sleep with socks on.” His touch isn’t condescending, merely helpful, so Will lets it stay as they make their way up the porch.  
  
“They make my feet sweat.” His front door is unlocked and he pushes it open. The dogs clamor around him happily. At least Winston didn’t follow him this time.  
  
“Sit down.” Hannibal directs him past the dogs, into the kitchen. “Cloths? Disinfectant?”  
  
“Bathroom down the hall.” Will sinks into his chair. “Should be a basin or something, somewhere.”  
  
He sits there with Hannibal’s shirt pulled close around him. Now that he’s alone, the contrast between him and the size doesn’t bother him as much. Will likes the feel of it on his body. The knowledge of where it came from. The smell of the material when he rubs at his eyes.  
  
Hannibal finds the necessary items and returns. He sets them aside and pours them each a drink. “Here, drink this.” He hands the whiskey to Will and kneels before him, setting the basin on the floor.  
  
“You don’t have to do this.” Will protests, even as the muscles in his groin stir pleasantly as Hannibal’s hands take hold of his left foot.  
  
“It’s far easier for me to do this than you. Drink your whiskey, Will.” Hannibal dips his foot into the basin of warm water, washing the tender flesh gently. Will sits back, cradling his whiskey and drinks in the pleasant relaxation. He’s starting to feel less chilled.  
  
Hannibal does the same with his right foot as well. “The cuts are all superficial, fortunately.” He takes a fresh cloth and dries each foot carefully. “I don’t think you need bandages, but you should take it easy tomorrow.” He glances at the clock. “Or should I say today?”  
  
Will blinks, resurfacing from his haze. “Good. Right.” He’s too comfortable right here in the warmth of his kitchen with Hannibal’s hands on him. And then he looks down to see a very noticeable bulge at the front of his shorts. The shirt’s risen up just enough that it’s obvious to Hannibal as well.  
  
“Shit.” Will pulls the shirt down. “Sorry. It’s the alcohol.”  
  
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Hannibal’s hand is still on his ankle, a light, but firm grip. If he just moved his hand upward, Will’s cock hardens even more at the thought. “It happens to everyone.”  
  
“Not to you.” Will blurts. Shut up, shut up, shut up.  
  
Hannibal sits back on his ankles, looking at him thoughtfully. “Are you saying I don’t become aroused?”  
  
“Do you?” Why is he asking this? Why doesn’t Hannibal just leave already so he curl up into a ball and never have to think about this moment ever again.  
  
“Arousal is a common response,” Hannibal tells him, but it doesn’t tell Will what he wants to know. He stands, trying to get on steady ground. Hannibal stands as well, staying exactly where he is.  
  
“You probably want this back.” Will tries not to look straight at him as his fingers fumble with the buttons.  
  
“Keep it for the night.” Hannibal’s voice is silk. “Sleep in it if you like. The scent comforts you.”  
  
“That’s…” Will stares at the floor for a moment, before forcing himself to look back upward. “That’s true, but,”  
  
“I’m a source of stability for you. It’s perfectly natural.”  
  
“I’m fairly certain it’s not perfectly natural to want to sleep in your psychiatrist’s shirt.” Will says flatly. _Or to stand this close, or come when I call you in the middle of the night, for that matter._  
  
Hannibal merely studies him. “Do you want to?”  
  
Will hesitates. He can hear the tick of the clock as the hour drags on, the dogs settling themselves in the other room, the creak of the back door in the breeze. He still has to answer. Hannibal is waiting.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Then do.” Hannibal turns. “Or would you prefer I stay?”  
  
That common response of arousal flood Will’s body as he processes the words. Hannibal sounds so calm as he stands there, watching Will, waiting for his verbal response.  
  
“Do you…want to stay?”  
  
“I thought that what I wanted was clear.” There's the briefest flash of hesitation in Hannibal's eyes. “Perhaps, I am being presumptuous.”  
  
“No, no,” Will takes a step towards him, and pain flares in his feet. “Stay.”  
  
Hannibal’s arm is on his shoulder, steadying him. “Go upstairs, Will. I’ll be up in a moment.”  
  
He doesn’t offer to carry him. Will’s thankful for that. It’s the last thing he needs right now. He has to maintain some sort of control, not fall apart at the first…  
  
 _The first what?_ His brain asks. _What do you think is happening here?_  
  
“I have no idea,” Will whispers as he goes up the stairs.  
  
He settles down onto the bed with a sigh, sitting there on the side of the bed.  
  
After a few moments, Hannibal enters the room. “The doors are locked, and the dogs are settled for the night.” He stands perfectly still, gazing down at Will.  
  
Will nods. “What are you waiting for then?”  
  
Hannibal responds by removing his coat. Will lies down as he watches him. Hannibal undresses with quick elegant ease, leaving only his slim grey briefs. He takes the other side of the bed and pulls the blankets up over both of them. His fingers brush Will’s hair.  
  
“You’re safe now, Will.”  
  
“Am I?” This is a different kind of danger. New, unsettling. He doesn’t want to ruin what he has with Hannibal, but he still wants.  
  
Hannibal’s breath is warm on his ear. “I give you my word.” His other hand moves across Will’s belly, sliding down into his shorts. Will gasps faintly as Hannibal strokes him, his hand moving evenly under the blanket. Now he’s warm, Hannibal’s shirt covering his body, Hannibal’s grip on his cock, caressing the pleasure from him until Will’s hips strain and buck into his hand.  
  
Hannibal’s lips graze his throat and Will comes with a soft needy cry.  
  
“There.” Hannibal kisses the side of his mouth. “Now, sleep Will.” His hand remains in Will’s shorts.  
  
Will closes his eyes and obeys.


	2. Chapter 2

At first Will’s uncertain of where he is. He’s comfortably drowsy, in his own bed and…there’s someone lying beside him. How’d he get here? Will’s heart rate climbs furiously, and then, belatedly he realizes, there’s a hand inside his shorts, wrapped around his cock. Hannibal’s hand.

As soon as he’s realized this, a switch flips in his brain, and his cock stirs. Will begs it to stay still, but instead the blood just continues traveling south. Maybe he can get to the bathroom before Hannibal wakes up.

Slowly, he draws back the sheets.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Will freezes.

Hannibal looks sleepy, which makes everything slightly off. Hannibal is always prepared. Even when Will barges into his home too early, he’s still dressed in pajamas, a formal robe, still prepared. Now, he looks as though a layer has been peeled back.

For some reason the hair on the back of Will’s neck prickles.

“I need to relieve myself.”

The hand on his cock flexes slightly, and tightens. Hannibal watches Will trying not to react. “Is it truly necessary to lie to me, Will?”

“Look, you already,” Will’s brain hesitates, but the words continue without his permission, “gave me a hand last night so there’s no need to,”

Hannibal’s chest shakes with undisguised mirth, he’s laughing and Will can’t blame him because he’s laughing too. Hannibal strokes along his cock and just looks at him.

“Perhaps it’s more a case of that I want to, rather than any need.” Hannibal muses, gliding his thumb over the slit.

Will’s breath hitches. “What else do you want to do?”

Hannibal’s hand ceases moving. Will wishes fervently he could take the words back as Hannibal draws his hand out of his shorts.

“I’ve given that considerable thought.” Hannibal pulls back the sheets, revealing Will’s erection straining against the front of his shorts.  

“And your findings?” Will manages as Hannibal’s fingers skim along the skin above his shorts.

Hannibal tugs his shorts down just enough that Will’s cock bobs free, keeping his balls trapped. “Are you sure that you want to hear?” His forefinger brushes along the underside of Will’s cock.

“Yes.”

Hannibal smiles like a panther. “I want to fuck you.”

Well, he asked, didn’t he? Just hearing Hannibal say the word makes his thighs ache with want.

Will draws a deep breath. “Okay?” He doesn’t meant to sound so hesitant, but the surreal normality of the moment is getting to him.

To his disappointment Hannibal’s next move is to get out of bed.

“Don’t move, Will.” He goes out of the room.

Will lays there, hands resting on his chest. Hannibal’s shirt. He slept in it, and he didn’t have any nightmares. He raises an arm and sniffs. Apparently he didn’t even sweat much. He should take it off before he does. Will reaches for the top button.

“What are you doing?” Hannibal’s standing in the doorway, watching him.

“I thought I should take it off,” Will hesitates.

“Leave it on.” Hannibal closes the door again. “I like seeing it on you.”

Will’s not going to object to that. He eyes the lubricant in Hannibal’s hand.

Hannibal sets it aside and kneels between Will’s legs. He glances upward from Will’s cock to his stomach, to his chest. Will’s trapped, pinned under his gaze. What on earth made him think this was a good idea?

Hannibal’s focus returns to his cock. He places his hands on either side of Will’s hips as he lowers his head.

Will’s eyes close as Hannibal’s mouth closes over him. He’s never dared dream of this, and now he knows his dreams wouldn’t have done it justice. Hannibal’s effortless, pulling him deeper and deeper. Will arches off the bed as Hannibal’s hands slide inside his shorts, gripping his ass. Hannibal’s taken him so deep, there’s nowhere else to go. His breath comes in short hollow pants, loud in his own ears.

Hannibal drags his mouth wetly off, until only the tip of Will’s cock is still inside, resting pleasantly on his tongue. Then the tongue wraps around Will deliciously and he _shouts,_ Hannibal’s fingers grasping him as he gives Hannibal everything he’s got.

Will sinks flat against the bed. His spine feels weak. Hannibal sits back, surveying him a moment, before he reaches down to tug Will’s shorts completely off. Now he’s just lying there in Hannibal’s shirt.

Hannibal gazes at the shorts thoughtfully before bringing them up to his nose. Will looks away, embarrassed. “Why’re you doing that?”

“I like your scents, Will.” Hannibal inhales softly. “You smell like…”

“Desperation?” Will says, half serious, half cynical.

“Melancholy. Desire. Nightmares.”

“You can’t smell nightmares.” Will tells him. The words make him shiver. Is he that damaged?

“I can on you.” Hannibal places his shorts to one side and looks down at Will. “You reek of nightmares.”

“Not after last night.” There’s something vulnerable in admitting that. He can’t ask Hannibal to spend every night with him, can’t beg to keep his shirt to have some semblance of security.

“No, not after last night,” Hannibal agrees. He touches Will’s knee as he reaches for the lubricant. “Spread your legs, Will.”

Will does, watching silently as Hannibal slicks his hand.

“What are you thinking of?”

“This.”

“Specifically.”

Will lets his mind drift into focus as Hannibal’s finger eases into him. “Specifically…how strange it is that this is actually happening?”

“How?”

Will chuckles before he can catch himself. “You’re asking me that, seriously?”

“Most seriously,” Hannibal assures him. “We’re two people with a mutual desire, mutual attraction.” He pauses, glancing up at Will’s face for a moment. “Or do you disagree?”

“I don’t,” Will’s focus skitters off to one side as Hannibal brushes over his prostate. “I didn’t realize.”

“That’s the trouble, Will,” Hannibal murmurs, rotating his finger gently. “You’re too much in your head to see what’s going on around you.”

His finger slips out and Will blinks rapidly, Hannibal pulls his own briefs off, keeping his gaze focused on Will. Will grapples for some measure of control, but then Hannibal leans over him, positioning himself between Will’s thighs. They’re doing this, they’re really doing this, and then Hannibal’s cock brushes against him, and Will gasps as Hannibal thrusts into him.

Will’s hand moves of its own accord, sliding over Hannibal’s back. He hasn't dreamed of this either, but now it’s all he wants. Hannibal moves inside him effortlessly.

 _Mutual attraction_ , Will thinks. Does that mean…

“What are you thinking of now?” Hannibal pauses mid-thrust, studying him.

Will can feel the warmth of Hannibal’s skin under his fingertips, the motion of his breath as his chest moves minutely. “That’d I’d like to kiss you.”

That faint curve of a smile is something Will can never quite predict, but he likes making it appear on Hannibal’s lips. “Why don’t you then?”

Will pushes himself up, mouth still hesitant even as he’s leaning in. Something inside him is still tightly barricaded against this.

“What are you afraid of, Will?” Hannibal asks, his breath soft on Will’s cheek.

“I don’t know.” Will’s honest when he wants to lie and say "nothing _."_ He eyes the curve of Hannibal’s lips, then presses his mouth to Hannibal’s before he can think any more. Hannibal’s lips are smooth against his, and then they part hungrily.

Hannibal’s hand is on the back of his head, the other moving down Will’s back, pulling him upward to where he’s straddling Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal’s tongue, svelte and predatory, invading his mouth as Hannibal moves inside him. Will’s cock is trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Hannibal’s chest.

“Do you trust me?” Hannibal whispers on Will’s lips.

“Yes.” Will says. The usual reservations he has with people fade when it comes to Hannibal. Will can’t explain it, though he’d dearly like to.

“Sit still.” Hannibal reaches for the sleeves of his shirt.

Will snickers because he’s sitting on Hannibal’s cock, and oh god, he can’t help it.

“Draw your hands up inside the sleeves.” Hannibal directs.

Will wants to ask why, but he has a feeling he already knows the answer. He pulls his hands up and Hannibal draws the sleeves behind his back. He ties the cuffs together and Will’s caught. Hannibal ties a good knot. Will shifts his balance, and tries not to moan because he’s still fucking sitting on Hannibal’s cock.

Hannibal’s hands settle on his hips. He keeps eye contact with Will as he holds him there, half withdrawing him and then thrusting back in. Each motion makes Will’s knees faint as his cock keeps brushing against Hannibal’s chest.

“Would you like to come, Will?” Hannibal’s voice remains as steady as ever. Just once, Will wonders what it would be like to see him lose control.

“Yes.” Will stutters as Hannnibal thrust all the way inside him.

Hannibal’s grip tightens on his hips. “Then come.”

He does, hitting Hannibal’s bare chest.

Hannibal traces his finger through it, tasting him, before he lays Will down on the bed, arms still restrained behind him. Will gazes up at him wordlessly, and then Hannibal’s kissing him, as he comes inside Will.

At last Hannibal finally slips out of Will, and lies beside him.

Will’s still dazed, but his arms are sore. He twitches slightly, and Hannibal looks at him.

“Are you going to let me go?” Will asks. It’s an offhanded joke, but there’s something in Hannibal’s eyes as he answers, “No,” that makes Will wonder.

Then Hannibal leans over and unties the sleeves, releasing Will’s arms. “I would like to make you breakfast, but I fear there’s nothing suitable in your kitchen.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so fussy about your food,” Will mutters, then stops. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

Hannibal merely chuckles. “Believe me, you’ll know when I think you’re rude.” He stands and Will can’t help admiring his body as he walks around the bed. “A compromise. Why don’t we shower, and then I’ll drive home. You can follow, and I’ll have brunch prepared. How does that sound?”

“Very nice,” Will admits. “If you’re sure,”

Hannibal reaches for his clothes. “Did anything about my behavior last night, or this morning, lead you to believe I was unsure about any of this, Will?”

“No.” Will sits up.

“Good.” Hannibal leans down and brushes a kiss across his lips. “You may keep the shirt, but I’m going to take your shorts.”

Will opens his mouth, but Hannibal just goes out. Will sits there, shaking his head as he listens to the sound of the shower starting. This is all unexpected. He places his right hand on his stomach, pressing the shirt against his skin. Unexpected, but not unwanted.

He’ll take it.


End file.
